


who do you think you are

by Hydra_Trash_Gal



Series: Winter’s Keepers [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Extremely Dubious Consent, HYDRA Husbands, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Mental Illness, Misunderstanding, Not Steve Friendly, Personality Disorder, Recovery, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:32:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydra_Trash_Gal/pseuds/Hydra_Trash_Gal
Summary: Steve loved Bucky, who he had pretended to be.But not Winter.No one loved Winter.orkeeping three personalities in the same body without any overlap is hard work. so when winter finds himself in bucky’s moment with no escape he’s left broken and frightened.





	1. the opposite of love is not hate

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of a long one, so my apologies.   
> First, this is NOT evil!Steve  
> Second, this was inspired by a comment I got about the protective HH sitting down and giving Steve a consent talk. It’s got a bit dark and there will be a second chapter  
> Third, thank you so much for reading this! Please take the tags seriously (let me know if I missed any) and let me know what you think.

"I love you," Steve breathed, voice deepened with desire, heated and rough against Winter's ears. "God, I love you Bucky."

"Love you too Stevie," he said, just like he was supposed to. 

Steve's front was flush with his back, too warm, stifling him, suffocating him. Steve’s bulk was heavy, shoving Winter's body against the mattress. Winter was being good; he kept his eyes clenched tightly shut so he would have to see, hands purposely loose to avoid detection. It would hurt even worse if he got tense. Steve's kisses were gentle, nothing like his old Commanders whose kisses were hurried and sloppy. 

These ones burned because Steve loved him. They hurt because Winter wanted to like it but no, he didn't love Steve.

Bucky loved Steve, loved him more than anything else in the world but he wasn't here. Winter was meant to be Bucky during this, to love Steve back because he had surely missed his 'best pal'. 

But all Winter could think of were the hands. 

Steve touched him lightly at first, whispered sweet words into the flesh behind his ear. He caressed and he pet his skin, the scars and all, as if he loved every bit of him. 

Winter knew this was the love that Bucky liked so much but Winter did not wanted to be touched by Steve, not like this. He liked it when they finished sparring and Steve clapped him on the shoulder, not too hard but firm and friendly. Right now all Winter wanted was for Steve to do it. To pushed apart his thighs and do it. Instead Steve touched the small of his back, careful strokes of fingers as if he worried about surprising him with his touch. 

Nothing was surprising about this except how long it took this Handler to claim what belonged to him, Winter thought bitterly. Outwardly he did his very best to be Bucky, so maybe he would come back.

They all belonged to Steve: Bucky, the Soldier, and now Winter. And it made him wither up inside because he didn’t want to belong to Steve, especially not like this.

Bucky had been his from the start, liked it even. The Soldier recognized him as a handler and therefore yielded. The Soldier felt nothing, no sense of pride so there was no shame. It did not matter what Steve did to the Soldier, it was all a mission to complete and these types of missions were easy because the Handler was doing all the work himself. The Soldier did what it was ordered to, what was expected of it, and did not fight. 

But Winter wanted to squirm away. He wanted to crawl up into the vents and vanish into the walls. He imagined could live with the invisible man until Steve forgot about him. He wouldn't have a body that could be touched, that would betray him like this shared vessel did. 

When a slick digit pushed against him Winter exhaled silently. He tried to ignore it, tried to give Bucky center stage and control because this what he had wanted, what he had started but Winter couldn't. He was stuck in place, being prodded at by hesitant fingers while lips murmured words his mind could not decipher. 

'You can say no' the Commander had said in a firm tone that held no questioning but Winter was distressed to realize he couldn't. Not to Steve. Because Bucky couldn't say no to him — he wouldn't because he wanted this. Winter inhaled as a second finger was added. Somehow he knew Steve would use three before the blunt head would push into him. Maybe he had been present before, a backseat driver to Bucky who always moaned and arched. Winter should have done those things, made it good for Steve because he loved him and no one had loved him before. 

"You okay?" Steve whispered. 

He always whispered as if it was secret and Winter appreciated that. If no one else knew, no one else would try. Steve would finish and no one else would begin. There was no one else in the room, just them. "Okay." He echoed and ground his teeth together as he lifted his hips, trying to be more Bucky-like.

The drag of the sheets, silky and soft not like the rough sleeping bag lining his old Commander would lay out when the team used him, felt strange on his flaccid length. Winter was terrified Steve would see and know that he was not aroused like Bucky would have been but Steve just chuckled a bit as his fingers sunk in deeper at the position change. "God Buck, you drive me crazy."

Oh. So it was a punishment after all. Bucky had done something to annoy Steve and this was how the behavior was being corrected. Winter felt even more bitter now. This hadn't been his mistake but no wonder Bucky wasn't out here accounting for his sins. He wanted to keep this 'love' sacred and untainted by — 

Steve had touched something inside him, something different that made Winter's breath hitch. His slow counted breathing pattern was interrupted by an uncontrollable shiver. He felt blood pooling in his groin, felt pleasure zap up and down his spine. "Oh." He breathed out on accident. "Oh!"

"You like that?" Steve whispered challengingly. His teeth caught his ear. Winter's pleasure faded a bit as he wondered if he would bite through it. 

'You're so damn pretty, I could eat you alive,' one of the men had once told him before they bit his shoulder. He still had the scar and Steve would kiss it and nip at it when he was with Bucky. Barnes loved it but Winter just felt revolted. Barnes did not remember the men or much at all about Hydra and all the Commanders. The Soldier knew about everything and did not care because it didn't have any need for non-mission related information. Winter carried the horror alone, feeling more than he should. 

"Bucky?"

Winter he wanted to say but that would give away their malfunction. They were supposed to be one, not three. So far doctor Banner had been kind, nothing like the doctors Winter remembered but all doctors were curious. He would want to cut him open and take a look and Steve had admitted to Winter once he was ‘too nice’ and always agreed to things. At the time he was talking about a party he was attending with Tony Stark and the rest of the team, save for Natalia who spent the evening with him. The two weren’t exactly related but who knew where Steve could draw the line. Would he say no? 

"Feels good." Winter admitted. It wasn't supposed to, not for a punishment. Not ever when it was Winter. 

Steve did not stop what he was doing. Instead he found that spot again and began to stoke it. Winter's body was shivering at the stimulation, the sensation was...incomprehensible. Winter was whimpering but he didn't know why. Stop? Keep going?

Winter wanted it to stop, stop, stop but there was also an urge to continue, one that was not Bucky's. 

Feels good, Bucky supplied but he wasn't taking control. Winter could still feel everything and he didn’t want this to feel good. He didn’t want to think of the throbbing flesh engorged between his thighs and how it felt to jostle the tip against the sheets with each quaking movement of his body. 

Not right, not right, not right, was all Winter could think. 

The Soldier was as always silent. "You ready baby?" Steve asked in loving tone, a Brooklyn accent seeping in a bit, that meant for Bucky who just wouldn’t come back. Winter was ready to sob. “Or do ya need some more slick?”

Winter wanted to put his hands over his ears and scream no so loud the entire Tower would hear. It was disobedience at its finest but it was better than what was going to happen. Maybe Steve would stop or maybe he would be punished and the others would do it too. 

He loves me. He deserves whatever he wants from me. Bucky wasn't wrong and Winter pled for someone else to take over. 

The Soldier took over his body but his mind and eyes still belonged to Winter. The Soldier made the noises it knew Bucky would make and he parroted words that were right. Winter could still feel everything but he couldn't talk, couldn't fight. Bucky Barnes was gone for now and that was bad. That meant after... Winter paled at the idea of after. The Soldier was reliable to get a mission done but once it was over, once Steve rolled over, it would be Winter again, all alone to suffer the thoughts and the feelings. He would have to keep trying to be Bucky and pray he returned.

"I love those sounds, don't hide them from me." One of the Commanders used to say that, then jam his middle and index fingers into his mouth, even though it was usually already being used. 

Winter wanted to heave as Steve smoothed his hair from his eyes and kissed his mouth. Those lips were strong and almost forceful but the Soldier loosened his jaw and worked their mouths together in a way that was familiar to Steve. Winter could tell by that extra gleam of excitement in his eyes. The moment their mouths were separate Steve's fingers inside him toyed with the hot button inside him and the Soldier arched Winter's back. He felt fluid drool from it's tip and waited for Steve to get angry at him for making a mess but he was too busy making love bites around his throat to notice. 

Winter had gotten the chance to try and say no and he hadn't. This was all his fault. When Steve was inside him, trying to rip apart, the Soldier relinquished control and Winter's body went lax. "B-Buck?" Steve didn't halt his rhythm. The sound of skin slapping made the urge to puke grow. "Bucky you okay?"

"I came," he managed to croak, tears building up in his eyes. He was a liar. 

"Okay, I'll be done in a second," Winter could hear the smile in Steve's voice and imagined the usual look had turned dark and unwelcoming. 

To his utter horror he felt warmth pooling inside him as Steve's thrusts faltered. Then he fell on top of Winter, kissing the nape of his neck in a way that was hurried and sloppy and oh so familiar. Winter still had his face in the pillow but knew the light fabric would betray his tears so his eyes were still miraculously dry. 

Winter just had to keep it together long enough to get to the vent. 

"I love you Bucky," Steve kissed under jaw. "I'm so glad I've got you back."

All Handlers were pleased when their best Asset returned so Winter was not surprised by this. 

But he felt cold. Very, very cold. It was highly unusual. "Stevie," the words were like acid on his tongue as he spoke, "Can I have the blanket please?"

"Oh, uh of course. Guess it is a little chilly," Steve rambled about weather forecasts as he pulled the comforter pushed off the bed to avoid any stains around their bodies. It didn’t help and if he started to shake Steve would know. To his complete disgust he felt warm, thick semen sliding thickly along the back of his thigh, getting on the sheets and blankets. Now it was just as tainted as he was. "Global warming they call it Buck, you believe it? Breaking down invisible gas linings is making it hotter than its supposed to be? But if anything, I would say it's cooler around here." 

Bucky would have cared. 

Winter just wanted to cry in the vents.

"Bucky?" The one sided conversation did not work in Winter's favor and he begged for Bucky to come back. There was nothing. 

"World today," he finally said with a helpless shrug. He was alone. He would have to suffer the aches, the knowing, the memories... "Imma get cleaned up."

"Already? You don't wanna go again?" Steve sounded so disappointed. Winter didn't want to hurt his feelings, he was so kind usually. He wasn’t being kind right now but other times he played board games with Winter and never minded when he won. 

But to do it again? To have Steve's flesh reaming away at the insides of him? Please God, no. Winter feared he would die if he had to suffer through the white hot poker of flesh bumping against dry inner walls while Steve pumped himself in and out like a piston. 

But Bucky would have wanted it. And Steve was his Handler, this body was his to utilize however he wished. Winter just wanted to go away, to fade to black where only the memories could hurt him. 

The Commander had lied to him. He couldn't say no, not to Steve. 

"Sure thing, Steve. I'm all yours." 

Winter gave in, gave in to the touches and to pretending to like it. He fought the urge to cry and years of training kept his voice steady. Winter was clever and once he found focus on the mission, like he learned from the Soldier, he could copy Bucky's voice, say his words and move like Bucky would. 

Steve wouldn't have to be angry or disappointed and think he was ungrateful. He would have to hit him...

It would be okay. 

It had to end eventually and he clung to that like the last shred of hope he could find. It was all he had and Steve ran his hands all over him. Feeling...feeling Bucky, probably, unaware that it was a shell. He didn't touch the Weapon, his fingers skirted the scar tissue where it had melted to his body.

Like an animal, drawn by the flesh and blood. Winter imagined Steve with sharp nails and fangs. 'You're so pretty, I could eat you alive'. 

No, Steve wouldn't say that. 

He was too gentle. 

He didn't have fangs, just blunt human teeth and no flesh-tearing nails, just carefully cut down edges that never caught. 

"I love you," he would say whenever Winter started to slip away, pulling back to the dry friction. He could ask for more slick but... He didn't want it. He didn't want Steve and that was bad because Bucky wanted Steve and they were the same. But why wouldn't Bucky come out?

"I love you too." He was never meant to lie to a Handler.

•• •• •• ••

The apartment was locked but Winter made easy work of picking the lock and rattling out the chain. Once inside and properly secured the apartment was quiet and Winter moved silently as he checked each room.

He couldn't decide if he was disappointed no one was here or relieved. He had disappointed the Commander by letting this happen. He wouldn't want to see him anymore. 

Maybe Winter was being stupid — Steve was allowed to love him, he had been allowed before. 

Nothing in the one bedroom unit suggested Brock and Jack had left for an extended amount of time. They would be back eventually. Winter's stomach was still in knots. He needed to eat but he couldn't. The protein bar Steve had tossed to him after he had kept down long enough to go back to his room and vomit back up. 

His entire body felt taxed. Winter was sore down there, even with his enhanced healing Steve was enhanced in his own ways. None of the others had hurt so bad. It was okay, Winter told himself again, a mental mantra at this point that was all that was keeping Winter from crying. Steve loved him. He couldn't forget that part except...he could. Steve loved who he had pretended to be and was, sometimes. 

But not Winter. 

No one loved Winter. 

Winter had ran as soon as Steve got into the shower after his workout. Winter let a few tears fall because the Commander wouldn't see them. He looked for a safe place but the vents here were too small and he'd already been found under the sink.

Winter just wanted to disappear for a little while but no one else would take over. He was maroon, trapped. He fit himself under the bed, the cold metal frame felt constricting and that was nice. No one could fit over him, no one could see him. There was small square remote lying next to his face, probably for the TV. He wondered how long it'd been there or if the Commander needed it back. But moving things had gotten him caught the first time so he laid still, counted his breathes and tried to forget. 

When the door opened Winter inhaled slowly. He shifted gingerly so not to hurt the tender places inside him. He didn't want to be discovered. He hoped if he laid there long enough he could become a part of the floor below him, or turn invisible or maybe just cease to exist.

Winter didn't know why he was here except that he was scared. He was alone, no other voices or urges to lead him. He needed a wipe, he needed to be put back together. Three people didn't not reside in one, that wasn't how it was meant to be. His eyelids felt heavy and he let them close. 

As it turned out without the Soldier Winter was not nearly as observant. And maybe just as stupid as the Commander said when he was got angry in the field. He pretended he was the Ghost. He listened to them come in and imagined this was a safehouse and the mission was completed. 

Winter didn't feel so alone now. He still hurt, his body stiff, but that was fine. 

This was better than 'I love you Buck'. 

" — hated it." Rumlow said furiously. "Bullshit and you know it."

"It's not bullshit Brock. It's my job. An' in case you forgot, you need money to live."

"We've got money."

Winter was happy to hear the Commander's voice even though he sounded unhappy. "Sure you're not just pissy they didn't ask you?" Jack replied and something thumped against the wall. Someone hanging a jacket on the coatrack they always bumped the pantry door. "It beats being a double agent."

Brock laughed without humor. "It's a two hour drive out Jack. But pretty fucking close to that hole you want us to dump our money in."

Winter thought he could fall asleep again. Maybe he'd never leave and wouldn’t have to see Steve again. That was a good thought. "It was left to me. Sure it needs work and a little TLC but I grew up in that house Brock."

"So move into it. I sure as hell ain't going."

"You're so difficult sometimes. I feel like I'm the only one interested in moving past what happened." Jack sounded awfully tired. "You're miserable here."

"I'm not miserable, this is just my personality. Don't like it? Fuck off."

Jack didn't respond for a long time. Winter found himself drifting off. He was safe, the Commander had said no one would touch him again like that. He trusted him. And for a long time, until Steve, no one had. Steve was allowed to change the rules however, he did it all the time. Plus he loved Bucky. 

It was okay. 

Winter hoped that if he kept repeating those three words in his head — it was okay — his body would stop trembling and the hurt would go away. 

Then the bed shifted and Winter started awake, completely alert. He could smell recently cooked food — they had eaten while Winter was asleep. That was good. His plan of lying there until he became part of the floor, became invisible or just ceased to exist felt more solid. 

"I guess we can look at it again if that's what you really want." Brock was muttering above him to the left. 

"I don't want to do anything you don't want to to do." Jack corrected in a flat voice to the right of the Commander. "You hate people; out there our closest neighbors will be two miles away. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Sounds like a good place to murder someone." It wasn't a real complaint, there was no authority behind the Commander's words. It was the tone he had in the field when the Soldier countered his plans for logistical reasons he had overlooked. Resigned but unhappy. "That your plan Jackie?"

Jack laughed and the bed shifted again. Winter could hear lips pressed against flesh and he bit his fist to keep from saying 'no'. He wasn't allowed to say no for someone else. But he didn't want either of them to hurt each other because they were disagreeing. 

"Trust me, I could dispose of a body anywhere." 

"Real cute asshole. We're watching what I want to watch because you're gonna bring me the middle of bumfuck nowhere like we're a couple of queers or something. Where's the remote?"

"You know I really didn't want to be the one to break it to you but we've been steady for what, seven years now?" Winter held his breath, teeth still digging into his flesh, as Jack's hand fell to the edge of the bed. "You're gay Brock. Accept it."

"Fuck you," the Commander said in a voice sounding more frustrated than angry. 

"That's the point, Brockie."

"Don't call me that. Where's the remote Jackass, you had it last night."

"I think you knocked off the side table while you were loving all the gay shit I was doing to you, Brockie." 

Winter heard the sound of a fist meeting solid flesh and listened carefully to ensure no one was hurt. But Jack just laughed sounding breathless and the bed shifted. "Jack don't — stop it, I mean it." the Commander was laughing but Winter could hear Jack kissing him and he could feel Steve's hands on him all over again. 

He wanted to cry but no, he had to save the Commander. He couldn't know how bad it made his insides ache, all the way to the cramping in the pit of his stomach. And he didn't heal as quickly as Winter did — maybe it would kill him. When Steve had done it, he could hardly breathe. 

He felt stuck, frozen. His mouth tasted like blood and — it was because his teeth had dug in to deeply. He never froze on a mission, this wasn't right. Winter was thinking about Steve, trying to remember how to breathe. "No." He managed to rasp out and that was good. That was a start. 

"What?" Jack had stopped. 

"The hell you mean 'what'?" Brock was further away, he didn't hear Winter's voice. Would Steve have heard and just ignored it? What if Bucky had said no? 

"You just said something!"

"With you tongue down my goddamn throat? If you're planning on getting crazy count me out of this house thing." 

"I swear to God I just heard — "

"We have neighbors dumbass. Probably 301 beating the shit outta his girlfriend again."

"That's not funny," Jack chastised. 

"I never said it was. Now kiss me."

The sounds continued, breathing got heavier and that ache within him was sharp. "No!" Winter could feel Steve's hands on his back. Saying 'I love you, Buck' which was okay. It was supposed to be okay but no, no it wasn't. “No! No! No!”

Both men seemed to jump off the bed as if it had caught fire or Winter posed an immediate threat to their life. "Is he under our fucking bed Jack?” Brock was dressing quickly from what Winter could see from such a low vantage point. His breathing was rapid and seemed more startled that he was when they found him under the sink. “What the fuck! What the fuck!"

Winter had to contend to the fact that this was not a good hiding place.

 

"Get your ass out here Winter!" Jack snapped over Brock’s steady stream of ‘what the fuck’ over and over again.

He didn't want to. He wanted to say no again but the Commander was still swearing and he was afraid he was going to lose his permission. Obediently he crawled out, he didn't look at either of them, just wrung his hands together nervously and tried not to let on how much it hurt to stand there. For a moment it was quiet and Winter could hear various TV programs playing above and below them. A smoke detector going off on the first floor and the sound of a heated argument two floors down.

Winter put all his focus into trying not to cry.

"Winter I swear to Christ if I ever find you under my bed again you're gonna wish Hydra still their hands on you." Jack sounded angry and what if he hated Winter now? The tears came and Winter was once more powerless. 

"Okay, okay," the Commander's shirt was backwards, his clothing and hair rumpled. He took a cautious step toward him. "What did I tell you? Soldiers don't cry, do they?"

Winter shook his head and wiped away the tears and snot the bed he could. The bite wounds were still bleeding a bit and stung a bit. "God now you've got blood all over your face — why the fuck are you bleeding?" the Commander demanded impatiently. "Or better yet, why the fuck are you under my bed?"

"I — " Shame was a new feeling that he didn't understand completely. But it wriggled beneath his skin and it was uncomfortable. The Commander's gaze was sharp and displeased. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry!" Jack laughed without humor. "For fucksake, Winnie. We talked about this."

"Come in the door," Winter wasn't trying to whine, he knew the Commander hated it when he did. "Don't watch. I wasn't looking."

"Don't play dumb with me. I don't know what Rogers lets you get away with but I know we taught you better." 

Rogers. Steve Rogers. Steve. The hands, the 'no' he couldn't get out because Steve loves Bucky and that made it okay... Winter was shaking again, teeth rattling a bit and he couldn't regulate his temperature. "Can I have a blanket Commander?" He didn't deserve to ask for things, not when they were so angry.

"A blanket in the middle of — what's wrong with you? I haven't seen you like this since..." Brock furious tone got mean then far too soft before stopped. He knew, 

Winter's own rattling teeth drown out all the other little sounds. The TV, the smoke detector, the arguments, the voices. It did not quiet the sound of Steve's unsteady breathing as the heat spread inside him.

He hadn't washed up yet, he realized with horror and Winter's felt like he was falling. 

He remembered before. He needed cold water, lots of cold water, to wash all the stuff away before the techs prepped him for cryo. 

Jack touched him and he flinched. "I'm sorry," he said again because he really was. "I shouldn't have hid. I — I was really good Commander. Steve's not mad."

Brock face had been very flushed when Winter was first discovered. Now all the color was gone and Brock's jaw ticked. He obviously didn't believe Winter and given the evidence of him fleeing punishment by hiding, Winter didn't blame him. "I was good," he insisted again. His throat stuck a bit but that was fine, his words were clear and understandable. "I won't hide again. I didn't mean to — You'd find me under the sink and I just wanted... He loves Bucky and Bucky would've been happy that he — "

"Stop!" the Commander couldn't even look at him. Winter couldn't figure out if he was feeling afraid or ashamed that he knew. "Just stop talking Winter. Please stop talking."

Winter looked down at his feet, fingers toying with the tab of the zipper. The sweater was dark and not at all warm enough. Neither were the three layers beneath it. It was useless: if Steve touched him, he'd still feel it. 

"I was good." He couldn't help but insist it once more, looking at Jack who didn't have an expression easily read but his eyes were on Winter, hyper focused like he was reading a room for threats. "I promise Agent Rollins."

"I bet you were Winter," Jack finally said and exhaled slowly. "Are you still cold?"

The Commander's body was tense and he was looking past them, toward the front door. He was done with Winter, he would throw him out and he'd be alone. He deserved it for running away, for saying 'no' when he wasn’t supposed to, for 'being fucking weird' like Jack had warned him not to be. "Is the Commander mad at me?"

Brock looked toward him. Not at him but a little past. "Are you hurt?"

Winter didn't know how to respond to that. Maybe? He'd been hurt worse, probably. The pain was usually secondary, dealt with by the Soldier. He could remember it, ghosts of sensation, of blood and of bruised skin, but he couldn't remember it in such a physical manifestation. "Soldier, status report." Brock was rubbing the heel of his head against his forehead the way he did when a mission went wrong and he knew men would die. 

"Functional but compromised."

"Compromised," the Commander echoed. "That mother fucker."

"Brock don't — "

"Don't," Brock spit venomously. Winter didn't understand why he was angry with Jack. This was all Winter’s fault. "Don't even tell me calm down."

"Fine, but be rational." Jack looked Winter up and down. "We don't know what happened."

"Bullshit. I call bullshit if you're gonna sit there and act like you don't know why he crawled under our fucking bed." The Commander was pacing a bit now. Each footfall made Winter wince. He had done this, made him angry. "Fuckin' Steve Rogers — shoulda let you take that shot back in DC."

"Shut up a second Brock." Jack touched Winter's arm hesitantly. "Go sit on the couch and I'll get you some blankets okay?"

Winter obeyed. They always took care of him and maybe if he behaved well, the Commander would allow a wipe to take away the memories.


	2. the opposite of love is indifference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thank yous to dance4thedead who Beta-read this chapter and let me throw ideas at them as I wrote it. You are the best!

Jack Rollins' time as Brock Rumlow's second in command and quasi-significant other had taught him enough about the man to be nervous.

Like the time they found Winter nested beneath the kitchen sink, usually Brock could step back from a situation and at least attempt a complete analysis before he barreled into it. Brock wasn’t able to think clearly enough to even comfort Winter. So Jack instead found himself moving an admittedly ridiculous amount of guns to different locations. 

He regretted letting his temper get away from him when he found the assassin under his bed but that, Jack figured, was normal. And apparently he was traumatized enough to have missed it, so that was a silver lining, right? 

He piled every blanket he could find on top of the Soldier who had finally stopped quaking long enough to whisper the most pitiful 'thank you, Agent Rollins' he had ever heard.

Then, with guns hidden, he sat down stiffly in the arm chair and tried not to stare at Winter, who was looking stressfully toward the wall. Brock had stopped his raving in the other room, which was good. Any happiness Jack had harbored about seeing the farm house again had vanished. 

"The Commander's still mad at me." Winter bowed his head, a lump of blankets and sadness on their couch. Just wonderful. "I was good. He doesn't believe me.” 

Good. The loyal dog who had known better than to bite back against its keeper. "Brock isn't mad at you. Have you been...good," he had to pause to swallow back the bile. "for Steve before?"

Winter seemed to sink lower, a knit green and blue afghan that hurt Jack to look at, covered most his face, muffling his words. 

"He loves Bucky.”

Jack had watched plenty of emotion flit through his blue-gray eyes. Ferocity, fear, anger, subordination. Never had he watched them fill with tears and Christ if that didn't make him wish Rogers dead regardless of what had actually happened. 

"That's why it's okay. It was okay. I was good."

Jack wasn't one for deep emotions. It had always been easiest that way, to try and see the Soldier as a machine, rather than the shell of a man with the faintest wisps of a soul inside it. But like all things in Jack's life, it hadn't gone according to plan and then they named him. Once the Soldier was called Winter the personality just sort of grew. Like mold in a way: it was neat to look at, but poisonous for the being as a whole. He thought the wipes would neutralize it, but they hadn't. Anyway,he was so distracted by his on-again-off-again, hot-to-cold Commander he didn't give it the attention it needed. So for better or worse, this was just as much his fault as Rogers' or Brock's or even Hydra's. 

No one had done right by Barnes, but at least they were trying. "Did you say no like the Commander told you to?" 

Should he have had to? Sex was intimate, the entire point was to read your partner. Nothing about Winter now suggested he would have responded with any positivity. A tear webbed in his lashes and another rolled down his cheek until it vanished into the afghan. 

His voice was thick, "Bucky woulda liked it. Steve loves him — me?"

"Aren't you Bucky?" Maybe it was condescending, but Jack was getting frustrated. "Did you not like it?"

Jack had yet another regret to add within the span of fifteen minutes. He was shit at this talking thing and Brock knew that. 

Winter made a choking sound and shook his head furiously. "I'm Winter. I'm Winter." He moaned as if he was begging Jack to see. "Bucky likes it and I — I didn't want to make Steve mad."

The experience in the elevator made Jack sympathetic of not wanting to be struck by Captain America, but was Rogers really the type to force someone? It was difficult to picture him having sex with anyone, more the type to want to wait until marriage or maybe be celibate forever. "Why do you keep saying Bucky would like it if you don't?"

Maybe trying to reason with someone who had their brains fried and flash-frozen for seventy years wasn't a great information source, but he had to be armed with something when Brock made his grand appearance. When Brock was mad about something, every conversation was an interrogation. 

"Sometimes..." Winter drew in a ragged breath. "I go away. And when I wake up,I'm not where I went to sleep." 

A lapse was not all the uncommon, he had them in the field at times. But they were bouts of violence and disobedience that Winter always sought forgiveness for after. He was always aware of what he’d done and losing time wasn’t mentioned in any of the information given to them by the tech team or ever commented upon by Winter himself. This, Jack feared, may have been something other than a lapse in conditioning and significantly more serious.

"When I'm gone, Bucky's here." Winter was whispering like it was secret. "And when Bucky's here he loves Steve. They — I was good so he wouldn't know."

"So let me get this straight," Rollins' head was starting to hurt. "There's you, Winter, and then there's Bucky? And you have no idea what happens when you're Bucky?"

Winter made a small sound of distress. He looked confused himself. "Sometimes I know. Sometimes I'm there but I'm not — I remember things that didn't happen to me but that are real. I remember some things that Bucky does." 

"Okay so you woke up from Bucky as Winter?" Jack's wariness seemed to grind on Winter who growled lowly in frustration. "I'm trying to understand here Winter, don't be a prick."

"It doesn't make sense and I know that." Winter's hands appeared and he gripped his hair. "I didn't want to be there, but I was already there so I had to behave. I tried to be Bucky but I couldn't. He won't come back and I don't know why!"

Then again there was a chance he was completely, utterly, batshit crazy. "Okay," Jack relented. "So you're Winter and Bucky."

Winter seemed to mull it over, eyes fixed on the middle distance. "And the Soldier," he added quietly. 

"Winnie, you're the Soldier." 

"I'm not the Soldier," Winter burrowed deeper in the nest of blankets, face downturned. "I'm Winter."

"The hell are you talking about?" 

Jack hadn't heard Brock come in, too wrapped up in trying to sort out this mess. Winter looked owlishly up at him. "Nothing Commander," it was the feeblest attempt at a lie, he flinched as he spoke. "I mean — I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing and tell me exactly how you figure you're not the Winter goddamn Soldier."

It was almost painful watching him try and put together a thought. "I don't know Commander," he finally whispered. "I — I can try and be the Soldier?"

Jack put his hand up to stop the conversation. The shivering had gotten worse and Winter's breathing was uneven. He wasn't dangerously unstable yet and they didn't want to get to that point. He wanted their security deposit back. What Winter had experienced was utterly fucked and that should have been the first concern. "Are you injured Winter?" Jack asked, hoping for a better answer than earlier. "Down... Y'know... down there?"

It shouldn't have been so awkward to talk about. The gore they used to encounter in the field was secondary to everything else. Why wasn't this the same? Tearing from a super soldier cock was nothing. But it didn't stop the feeling of a knife twisting his gut. He wished he had taken that shot back in DC. The shuddering was interrupted by Winter shifting uneasily. Jack could imagine why and while he tried to think of tactful way to bring it up Brock was his usual self. "Maybe if stop fuckin' squirming around you'll feel better Winter. Sit still."

He dunked his head and obeyed for a few minutes while both men mulled over their own separate plans for proceeding on. Jack didn't have any plans at this point. Then Winter started to squirm again with small huffing noises of frustration and discomfort because he knew he was disobeying. "The fuck is wrong with you?" Brock snapped. "I just told you to sit still."

Brock Rumlow — the only person in the world who would ask a rape victim that.

Jack was ready to tell Brock what a dick he was being but Winter started to cry and Brock's annoyance crumbled back to that look of aimless fury. Brock was a hardass but he cared for Winter just like Jack did even though they both didn't like saying it out loud. "I was good," he sobbed, "Why did he have to do it again?"

"Because he's piece of shit and you're not going back there." Brock snarled. 

"Brock, wait a second." Jack needed to get a handle on this before Brock tried to arm up and realized he couldn't find any guns and all this anger was turned on him. Winter was squirming around again. "Winter, what's going on? We can't read your mind. If something hurts or is uncomfortable, then that's really serious. You're supposed to heal quickly, right? What's the status report."

Jack had no idea how long it'd been since the assault or even how long a victim was expected to bleed. Was bleeding even normal? What if the Super Soldier was damaged beyond what he could heal himself? Jack wasn’t a medic and neither was Brock. And they couldn’t bring him to just anyone. The only ones who knew how to heal injuries for Winter would have been Hydra employees and they were all scattered or dead or incarcerated. What the fuck was Jack supposed to do?

"I...I don't like the feeling of it, Agent Rollins." He admitted softly, face hidden by his hair. He was still squirming. "It's gonna get on your couch and blankets and you won't let me come back!"

"Get off my couch — damn you Winter," Rumlow lunged forward and pulled the man up. Jack felt sick. There was a small dark patch beneath him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Brock had gripped the back of his neck and was all but dragging him to the bathroom. Jack snapped out of his trance — the couch would have to be burned. He could never sit where Captain America's nut had seeped into the fabric. Utterly disgusting. Jack grabbed Brock's shoulder, maybe a bit too hard, but Jesus Christ Winter had been manhandled enough for one day. 

"It wasn't his fault. Get a grip on yourself, Brock." 

That seemed to snap Rumlow out of whatever hell or highwaters mood was in and that horrified expression came back. He took a step away from Winter who folded his into himself, practically fetal, leaning against the pantry door as his body shuddered with sobs. "I'll clean up my mess. I remember how." He insisted, "I'm sorry Commander. I'm sorry, I'm sorry — I'll be good, I don't need to be punished again."

Jack gagged a bit and clenched his jaw. Brock's steely demeanor threatened to crumble as he looked to Jack. He didn't show vulnerability often but there was a striking helplessness there. Comfort wasn't his forte but seeing Winter in pain was unpleasant for all parties. The look quite simply was a plea to 'fix this Jack'. 

"Okay," he took a deep breath and got into mission mode. Immediate concerns were Winter's well-being. "On your feet. I'll run the shower and you can get cleaned up. Brock, make some food." 

He squeezed around Winter assuming he wouldn't want to be touched from the way he flinched in the bedroom. Instead Winter threw his arms around him, bumping them both against the doorframe. Jack grunted a bit, ribs bruising almost immediately due to the metal arm. Brock caught his eye, as if worried the fragile creature actually meant him harm and Jack waved him off the best he could. He wasn't the hugging type but guilt made men do strange things. 

Winter was still shaking and Jack was no psychologist but he imagined that wasn't a good sign. "Why did you let him do this to you, Winnie?" Jack knew the raw strength the Soldier had — assuming they weren't separate entities like Winter had insisted earlier. "Why didn't you tell him you aren't Bucky?"

Winter drew away looking even more wounded. Jack could hear how it sounded and cringed. He wasn't really any better at this stuff than Brock; they weren't trained to deal with trauma, they were skilled in giving people trauma. 

"I had to be Bucky. Steve loves Bucky and Bucky loves Steve and-and he's done a lot for us." Winter hugged himself. "Bucky was supposed to come back, but he's gone away and I don't know why."

"Right..." Jack wondered when Captain America would realize his beloved Bucky wasn't home and come storming down here. "Let's get you cleaned up, deal?"

"I can repay you." Winter looked reproachful but determined in a sickening way.

"No! Jesus," he took a moment to calm himself, "Just want to help you feel better. You were good, right?"

"I was good," he nodded hesitantly.

"Then you get a reward. A nice hot shower." Rogers was the asshole here, not Jack but just saying those words made him feel dirty, like he had violated Winter just as much. "Because you did such a good job."

Winter shuddered as he offered a small smile. The kicked puppy look didn't fade but his tail was wagging reluctantly. "Okay Agent Rollins. How long can I have the warm water?"

"As long as you want?" Jack tried hard not to think about his gas bill. They weren't hurting financially, but if there was one thing he learned from his parents, it was frugality. 

Another surprise attack hug and then Winter ambled inside and started to shuck off clothing without bothering to close the door or even turn on the taps. Jack averted his eyes but he didn't miss the smudge-like hickeys fading on his skin. How dark had they been if it was only fading now? Rogers had fucking marked Winter. 

Jack wished he could have taken more than one shot back in DC. A thousand rounds until nothing was left of the monster who could use Winter in this way. Despite his inner fury he had to keep calm, keep face, for Winter's sake. "Do you know how to turn on the hot water?" he made his voice as non threatening as possible and speak in a normal tone. Maybe getting him into Soldier mode wouldn't have been so bad. It would lessen the emotional impact some, right?

"No, Agent Rollins." He stood there seemingly oddly defeated but he made no move to hide his nudity. 

Jack kept as much distance between the naked Asset and himself as he adjusted the taps to water warm enough to be comforting. He didn't need Winter scalding himself and there was no guarantee he would even step out of the water if it hurt him. Jack didn't mean to look at the back of his thighs, streaked and crusted with dry bloody semen. 

He bit through his lip. The blood pooling in his mouth did not lessen the horror as his eyes raked over Winter's body. He was looking away, seeming deeply ashamed. "Bucky never bleeds." His voice broke and those blue grey eyes welded up with tears. "Why do I?"

Jack closed the bathroom door harder than intended and dry heaved over the sink. "So what do we do?" Jack finally asked, glaring at the cracked ceramic over the sink. His stomach was in knots still, both hopeless and completely furious. "Kill him?"

"Because that worked so well back when we had a full team at our disposal?" Brock, who was supposed to be getting food together that no one was in the mood to consume, was sitting at the table, arms crossed. "Captain America, golden boy, is a piece of a shit."

"I coulda told you that." But Jack couldn't have. At some level he never really minded Rogers before all this. Working beside him had been a treat — he was a national hero who had given a lot for his country. He cared, genuinely for the good of the people. "It doesn't make sense though, what Winter said about not being himself."

"Of course it doesn't, Jackie. He's hardly got a grip on reality and Rogers is using him as a sextoy — he's probably unhinged."

If they were still Hydra, Brock would go on to say say he needed a wipe and a long rest. "Before you became a CO, your superiors did it."

Brock made a noise between anger and denial. "I wasn't included in their parties. I got stuck on clean up duty." Brock hadn't talked about it much at all beyond the last Commander, Heeley, abusing his position. 

"Clean up duty?" 

"You think what they were doing was by the books, Rollins? No evidence, no reason to look deeper into it. When he went back to prep for cryo, there couldn't be a speck of cum left on him."

Suddenly, Brock's haunting confession made many moons ago when Jack got him particularly drunk made sense. 'I ain't a good guy, that's 'bout all of it' Brock had said. 'Didn't do 'im like the rest of the team, but I didn't stop 'em. Hell, I helped 'em hide it from the techs.' 

"They made you do that?" Jack had gotten in later than Brock did. He was still serving the military when Brock was low in ranks. 

"We can't all join at the top of the ranks. I had to earn my place." There was some poorly placed pride in his words. "And he wasn't — it wasn't Winter back then. Just dead eyes and blank stares. It never remembered much. I tried to be nice where I could get away with it, but... It wasn't ever like this. The Soldier didn't hide after, didn't shake and cry. It just...took it. Never heard a thing when I was outside on patrol."

Jack almost asked why he didn't say anything, why he didn't stop it or tell Pierce. "That doesn't help us right now." Jack said instead.

"Nope. Guess it doesn't." 

Silence could be healing too, he figured. He tried to mull it over, to let the image of Winter being so broken fade. 

'Bucky never bleeds, why do I?'

"Winter isn't like the Soldier," Brock finally says. "The Soldier could take it, but Winter can't."

"Do you really believe they're two different people?" Jack couldn't wrap his mind around it. 

Rumlow cast him a weary look. "Do you really believe that guy in there the world's greatest assassin? You think he's killed more men with his bare hands than you and me, or our entire fucking team combined? I know the Soldier and I know Winter." He shrugged his shoulders. "I knew they were different, I just never thought about it like this. At the safe house, that was Winter. On base, that Winter. In the field — that's the Soldier."

"So which one is Bucky?"

Brock looked tired. So much for a nice evening discussing their future with some lazy sex. "I don't think we've met him yet."

•• •• •• ••

Winter — or maybe the Soldier, but Jack didn't think it was Barnes — emerged sopping wet and naked in their kitchen.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Jack steered him back into the bathroom. "Towel off and get dressed."

He pressed a towel against his chest and Winter's hands came up to clench it there. His hair hung in heavy dark tendrils as he looked down at the discarded clothing. "They're dirty. Do I — do I have to put them back on Agent Rollins?"

He hadn't realized he'd stopped shaking until he started again. Fuck. This wasn't something Jack should have to worry about. He was his Handler, he wasn't part of Hydra, he wasn't responsible for this. "No. Just — Christ Soldier, get yourself together."

The scorned look of acceptance was hauntingly familiar. It was like they were back in that barren wasteland in a too small shack. Winter had a gunshot wound, not fatal but it needed more medical attention that the field medic could provide. The moaning had been tolerated for the first few hours, then Rollins got annoyed. 

He finally got the shaking to stop when Winter was wearing borrowed clothing from Jack and back under the pile of blankets. Jack and Brock just sat at the table and waited for someone to come up with a way to proceed. Like a crocus coming up from frozen ground Winter seemed to perk up. There were slight rustled as he adjusted his position, straightening up. Jack could breathe again: he would recover. 

"Commander?" Jack saw the way Brock flinched. The tentative tenor in his voice brought back whatever past it was Brock didn't want to share. 

 

"Yeah, Winnie?" 

"Do...do you think I could do a focusing extracurricular?" 

Jack almost snorted. Back before Insight that question was always asked during lay-ups in safe houses when he ran out of guns to clean and Brock couldn't find anything better for him to do. Allowing Winter time to sit idly had caused lapses back then so the techs created a 'curriculum of activities to maintain optimal engagement' which was all nerd talk for 'Asset Approved Activities'. There had been a running joke during mission pack-ups where they asked the driver if he had AAA. 

Jack missed their team, most of them were dead and the rest scattered or jailed. They didn't have much AAA equipment kicking around, but the blanket had been sent with one of those puzzles of birds that Jack had done when he was a kid. A thousand pieces and shaped like a hawk. "Hold on a second," he went back to their bedroom, scowled at the bed and the fact that regardless of their talk, Winter had thought it was okay to hide there. 

By the time he dug out the puzzle, ignoring the letter on top he'd yet to open. He wasn't ready to process her death right now, hadn't been for almost a year. He was too busy before, and now he was focusing on being happy it was all over.

It felt like he'd been sucker punched when he stepped into the kitchen. Brock had mobilized while he was away and was spooning goops of quick oats into bowls. Winter was standing far too close cocooned in not three but four different blankets wrapped around his girth. If the reason wasn't so morbid, it'd be funny. Or maybe the morbidity of it made it funny. Winter could have still been sobbing in the corner because Captain America couldn't keep his dick in his pants — instead here he was, wrapped up tight in false security with that clueless little smile and he breathed down Brock's neck.

Back in the field Brock would have cracked him across the jaw with the baton because it was fucking weird. Now Jack heard that sound in nightmares between seeing that stray IED take the life of civilians in that little Middle Eastern village back when he was in the army. "Sit down," Brock let the annoyance seep into his words and he gave a dark glower in Winter's direction. "You wanna play with something, you need to eat dinner first."

They'd eaten at the welcoming meal — fuck, everything running through his mind and he'd forgotten the think they were meant to celebrate. A job was hardly important in comparison however — who knew how this mess would conclude. 

Winter frowned a bit but shuffled over to the chair and with some adjustment, lowered himself down with a cringe that made Jack sick to his stomach. Brock caught his eye for a moment, a shared grimace, and then Brock was all business. Jack leaned against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest. 

Brock wasn't drinking, which was a bad sign. That meant he planned to be on guard, which meant he was going to try something which...wasn't a good idea. Winter picked up the spoon and Jack fished a beer out of the fridge. He couldn't cope sober. 

He was two beers in and Winter was almost a quarter of the way done with the puzzle when there was a thudding sound outside of the door. Jack shouldn't have felt nervous, he hadn't done anything wrong, but he couldn't help it.

It wasn't just Rogers, it was Stark and Romanoff and Barton. Brock faced off with Steve immediately, who doesn't seem as collected as Jack remembered him from their missions. Winter snapped to his feet like Pierce had stepped into the room and he had been misbehaving. 

"Bucky!" Steve leveled them a feral look. "What did you do to him?"

"What did we do to him?" Brock laughed out harshly. "It was your dick that broke him, Cap. Real swell thing to do your pal."

If things had been a bit less tense, Jack would have commented the biggest crime here was Brock's horrible Brooklyn accent. Winter looked like... No, Jack hadn't seen such raw terror. Not when Brock shouted at him or punished him and not even approaching the Chair. 

Steve didn't seem to hear him however, eyes on Winter like he was the Holy Grail or something. "Stevie," Winter's voice broke on the second syllable. "Please don't be angry."

"Angry?" Steve seemed baffled and Jack wondered if he had realized it wasn't Bucky because he seemed to draw himself down some. "No, Buck! I was worried because — what are you doing here?"

Jack chanced a look at the others and was moderately pleased by the furrowed brows remaining from Brock's comment. Steve might have missed it but they did. The only one who looked completely unbothered was Romanoff but when did that bitch ever let any form of emotion onto her face? 

Winter cast a look to Brock. "I was just — I'm sorry Steve. I want to go...home with you and-and do things that we do...together?"

"Together? What — " Steve faded off looking pink in the face and no less baffled than before. "Buck you're not making much sense here. Did they use the trigger words to get you here?"

"Fuck you, Rogers!" Jack reached for Brock, but he threw off the hand. "He's here because he's terrified of you. I don't know what was okay back in your day, but by today's standards, you don't have sex with someone who's half fucking brain dead."

"Bucky's not!" Jack couldn't blame him for getting defensive. "He knows — we talked about it and — "

Steve was looking helplessly toward Winter who was hiding behind his hair and the shaking had started again. "This isn't Barnes, and I bet you knew that and just didn't give a shit." Brock took a step toward Rogers and Barton mirrored the action.

Stark and Romanoff were more focused on Winter however. Jack didn't know what to do. They were outmatched here, if it came to that depending on what side Winter took. "What did you do to Bucky?" Steve thundered and grabbed Brock.

Jack surged forward and found an arrow pointed at his head. "Back off, buddy," Barton gave him a grim sort of grin, a challenging 'I dare you'. "Tell us what you did and maybe you'll end up back on the Raft instead of dead."

A bitter taste crept up Jack's throat. "We didn't do anything," Jack could hear Brock and Steve hurling insults at each other. "He came here."

"Let's all settle." Natasha strode toward Winter who took a step back. He remembered her from his time with the Soviets or had enough sense in his electricity rattled skull to know she was dangerous. "Are you Bucky or the Soldier?"

Winter looked wide-eyed at Brock, who looked inches from striking Rogers. Jack knew how well that would go over and prayed it wouldn't get that far. 

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I didn't mean to-to be here. I should be Bucky, but he went away and-and I was good for Steve. I didn't fight. I shouldn't have hid and I'm sorry. It's not the Commander's fault."

"Jarvis says brain activity suggests he's telling the truth." Stark said in a hollow tone. 

"No," Steve suddenly seemed pale. "But Bucky — he... I wouldn't have..."

"But you did," Brock took advantage and threw a right hook across his jaw. Jack flinched and drew him away before anyone else could.

Barton had lowered the arrow looking toward Natasha like some lost puppy. Steve's half heartedly rubbed his face where he'd been hit, and those American blue eyes suddenly looked awfully shiny. "You're...you're not Bucky." Jack would have felt bad for the guy if he hadn't seen Winter in such a state. "I... What happened to him?"

Winter was wringing his hands together as he rocked a bit on his heels. "I-I don't know, but I'm trying to make him come back. I know you love him," Steve flinched as if Winter had hit him. Seeing this seemed to strike up panic in Winter who stepped forward, reaching out with his flesh hand. "Please don't be angry. I'll be good. I can be Bucky until he's really back and he won't have to know. I-I was good this morning and I can keep being good for you. As many times as you want, okay Steve?"

"Stop," Steve staggered back a step and caught himself on the counter. It cracked beneath his grip. 

"And there goes the security deposit." Jack muttered.

"I'll take care of it." Stark murmured. 

He seemed just as uncomfortable as everyone else currently felt. No one wanted to watch Captain America crumble, but he was, slowly, like a car crash in slow motion. His knees buckled and he was staring up skyward as if begging the Lord himself for forgiveness (which, he may have actually been doing). 

"If you're not Bucky," Natasha spoke above the choking sound Steve made. "Who are you? I know you're not the Soldier."

"I'm Winter." It was a feeble sort of eager friendliness that made it all the more pathetic and Steve all the more awful. "I'm sorry, Steve. I'm real sorry."

Steve's face was blocked by his forearms. "Okay, Winter," Natasha held her hand out. "You need to come with us. It's not safe here for you."

Jack just wanted them all out. Brock's wrist was turning an ugly color and he suspected he had broken it. The idiot. 

"I feel safe here," Winter chewed his bottom lip looking between Steve's sob wracked body and Brock, who was doing a damned good job of pretending he hadn't fucked up his arm. 

"Commander?"

"Go home, Winter. With Steve, who loves you, because you're so unsafe here of all places." 

"Brock, enough." 

Steve clearly hadn't known, not that it made it any better, but Winter looked even more distraught. 

"Go with them Winter. If you need us, you know where to find us."

Jack got an icy stare from Natasha that suggested she too knew right where to find them, but she wasn't stupid. She knew they hadn't done anything. 

"You'll still be here?" Winter asked stressfully as he was kindly herded toward their door. 

Barton had clasped a hand on Steve's shoulder in an attempt to console him. It hadn't worked, but it got him moving and he stopped his sniveling. Captain America, ladies and gentlemen. He stepped around Winter as if he was carrying the plague or maybe because he couldn't contain his own guilt in the matter. 

"Yeah, Winnie." Jack lied. "We'll still be here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you thought.


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